


Samael

by NervousAliceCurious



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Supernatural - Freeform, Wholesomeness (For Now), maybe a little sad, to Earth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:02:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26774092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NervousAliceCurious/pseuds/NervousAliceCurious
Summary: There used to be no Angels on Earth. And then one day, someone became curious.Cw: Death, brief police mention, brief suicide mention. Body horror, kinda.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	Samael

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SummerInAmsterdam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SummerInAmsterdam/gifts).



> To Colleen, may good vibes go your way.

-So I mis-calculated the angle _just_ a bit.

Smoke blows from the corner of my eye.

My left wing burns in pain—

I do my best to keep even, but they beat in time with my heart.

-I crash through someone’s roof, and no, by the way, I cannot pay for the damages.

My tunic is absolutely soiled with silt,…what a waste.

I brush some off.

Still.

On-fire—

I scramble upright, too late, the floor is patched with embers, and disintegrating feathers.

I stumble to the bathroom-

They _would_ make their shower live upstairs in the furthest part of the building.

The wall streaks with soot.

I do apologize again.

‘But no one’s home’.

I have no doubt that if someone arrived now, the police hath been put on speed dial for attempted arson.

I rush into the room, and twist the faucet.

Cold water soothes.

And then the full agony hits.

Right down the left side of my back…wonderful.

. . .I sit on the edge…well, slide more like.

Jagged bone peeks from my straight-ahead glance.

Everything used to be spotless, I imagine.

-Until I came along.

I wince.

I turn off the faucet.

I gingerly test movement.

Ivory, scarred by ash clicks.

It sends a strange feeling through me.

An angel never looks like that…

I stand.

Now that that’s over with, I would like to know who to address my Confession Letter to.

An ordinary house, for an ordinary family.

Right?

-For some reason, there is a chinchilla with glasses nomming in the backyard.

They wave.

It gets better.

Documents left in the office proclaim ‘Ripley-Caron’.

……Heaven does talk.

Quite a bit about these dying Plant People.

‘Dear Ripley-Carons.

I am sorry that I have destroyed your house.

I may or may not be able to repay you’.

‘Hmm…’

Well now what.

‘….’

I have no contact information.

‘…….’

Shall I put down my name?

‘I am not so sure they would believe it’.

-I pen ’S.’ at the end with a flourish.

I let myself out.

The sun blazes, not in the least bothered by my strafing.

I check my palms.

Nope, still there-

I consider myself lucky permanent marker is so permanent.

‘He/him’ on my left, ‘She/her’ on my right.

As long as I wave, they’ll understand, won’t they?

I fold my uninjured wing into my spine with no trouble.

The other,, complains.

It’s like pulling stiff joints, broken bones, you know?

-It’s as good as it’s willing to act, I suppose.

I set off along the street.

Some people gawk-

Is it at my odd appearance or the skeletal appendage dangling from me?

. . . It’s probably both…

The human world is…

Rather peaceful, in this juncture.

I always wondered what it was like.

Once they arrived in Heaven, they never wanted to leave.

#

I can smell it.

Death on the air. . .

Will they make an appearance or won’t they?

We all know what happens if they do….

There is no hope.

If they’re busy, it’s my turn.

Ever since an incident the Year prior-

'Let me see'.

I walk past the corner, looking for that aura.

You’d think it’d be bright and dramatic.

Such a final thing.

It’s not.

It’s faint, and it’s bordering gray, and it’s hovering around the hunched frame of someone in a wheelchair.

They’re holding a flower, more of its kind growing in the bushes, no umbrella despite the light rain that’s starting to fall.

(Which would have helped a great deal earlier on…)

“Hello”.

They meet my eyes.

“Hello…”

“Lovely blooms”.

“They’re hydrangeas”.

“Ah”.

Highly poisonous.

“They’re pretty, even though they have a dark side”.

“Doesn’t everything?”

“Yeah…”

I wonder what form it will take this time.

An illness?

A sudden lightning strike?

Or perhaps…

“Not a lot of people appreciate that”.

They smile.

It’s somewhat insidious that I have suicide on the brain.

However a certain GA keeps hopping in and out-

“. . .?”

They’re staring at me as if I have grown another head.

…..Mayhaps my thoughts are on my face.

“What is your name?”

“Amano, Reika”.

“Nice. Lyrical”.

I…debate.

“…Angel”.

“Do you have wings?”

-My, they do catch on quick.

“Yes…although I did manage to…..damage one, recently”.

“-Is it that?”

They point to the bone accordion.

“Yes”.

“It’s beautiful”.

“Thank you”.

The aura’s growing fainter.

“Did you know? Your time-“

“-Is running out”.

They bob their head.

“I know”.

'-Most would not be so calm'.

“And you know how?”

“I’m very tired. . .”

They draw away from the hydrangeas.

“My heart gets weaker every day. I’ll fall asleep sometime, and never wake up”.

“Right here?”

“…It’s not a bad place to go”.

They shrug.

“Are you Death?”

“No”.

“….”

“I help, sometimes…”

“You’re Death’s Wingperson”.

“…Interesting conclusion”.

It is about gone.

Their eyelids flutter.

“It is…interesting………”

I search the square.

Not a sign of life in sight.

‘A calmer end. Don’t get many of those anymore…’

The aura dissipates.

The eyes close.

I take their hand, and step back.

The soul steals free, wide-awake.

#

I can’t very well fly, but I can keep them occupied until actual Death arrives.

Shouldn’t be too difficult……

We sit on a bench.

It’s farther away, and yet the streetlights’ glow can reach us anyhow.

“That wasn’t as scary as I thought it would be”.

“Scary?”

“Yeah…nobody’s ever ready for Death”.

“Never, ever”, I agree.

“Even you?”

“…..I’ve never heard of an angel who _could_ die..”

“Your name’s Angel, too…it fits, I think”.

‘-Oh darling, if it fit—‘

I wouldn’t be working for them now, would I?

“What about you? What does ‘Reika’ mean?”

“Fresh flowers”.

‘-That’s only too appropriate’.

“That’s how mine’s written…”

“It’s a coincidence where we met”.

“-Oh. Yup”.

The light drizzle shifts into a moderate downpour.

It’s alright…

We just watch until they appear.

“…On the ball”.

“Good to see you too”.

“Hello”.

They wave-

“Ready to go?”

“…..No one’s ever ready”.

“Yeah”.

And so I am alone again.

I am used to the feeling of water on feathers, but not so much on bone.

It leaves a hollow pinging in its wake.

I could sit for a while longer.

The patter _is_ awfully relaxing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“Excuse me?”

“-Hm?”

It’s someone with an umbrella.

Their features remind me of the individual who just-

“-Are you the last person to talk to my daughter?”

‘. . . Oh my’.

“Yes”.

I sit up straighter.

“I was”.

The someone covers their mouth with a hand.

“. . . . . . . .”

Teardrops drip over their cheeks.

‘Must be hard…’

I’ve never been particularly close to anyone one way or another, I can only really guess at the feeling-

“Please……”

“Yes?”

“Please bring her back…!”

**Oh.**

………….

Should I?

I know I _could…_

I AM an Angel, after all.

And no one’s watching.

“She seems like a good child”.

I lean forward just a tad.

“Isn’t she?”

-A flurry of nodding.

“She-“

Broken voice……

“She should have had her whole life-“

“………Well. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .”

I pretend to consider what I’ve already decided.

“I think I _could_ do something about that-“

“Would you really?”

“Mmhm……”

-I have to keep up appearances.

After all, I’m breaking the Law.

I spin an orb of light upon my fingertip.

I then let it touch the ground.

It spreads in ripples.

Fresh blooms spring, in the cracks-

I draw a blinding silhouette.

Her face still fresh in my mind.

It’s not hard. . . . .

Color floods in.

Vibrant purple, blue…black-

Green, for the leafy clip in her hair.

-She almost falls.

But I catch her-

“Have no fear. . . .”

She gulps in air, getting used to the feeling.

“It is alright-“

“M—Mom-“

“Rei~”

Swooped upon with a grateful hug.

. . .

Well then.

I silently edge out of sight.

I suppose that is that. . .

Except.

I look back-

Only for an instant…

I am not much of a Believer in doing so.

However.

I remember she needed a chair-

“Can you walk?”

“-I hope so-“

-The mother holds her hand tightly as she wobbles slightly.

Takes that first(?) step. . .

Look at that.

“-Am I dreaming!?”

She pinches herself, quickly.

“I’m not dreaming!!”

Miracles do happen….don’t they?

#

-Although, in all honesty, it’s better if they pretend they never met me.

I am sure some Loud Voice somewhere would disapprove-

It’s better if they keep the whole story to themselves.

But. . .

I _am_ liking my time here thus far.

Perhaps…I shall do this more often?

-Why not.

There doesn’t appear to be any harm. . . . .

And I am still doing my job.

I see no reason for why anyone should need to complain-

I pause.

. . .

I should probably find a Place to Live if so.

I _could_ remember the Way to that house……

I decide against it.

If they did return, how would I explain.

And even if I was obligated to, should I?

…

Well. . . . . .

Perhaps not.

You never know how they will react towards the Angel of Death.

Say…

Maybe I _will_ keep up the name.

For just a little bit longer.

#

**Author's Note:**

> Hehe, thank you for loving my child-


End file.
